Saving Miss Relena
by Pink Delusion
Summary: Facing a bout of unprovked anger from the female specimen, Relena, the five pilots set out on a journey that could cost them their sanity. [Warning: 'Womanly Issues']


> **Saving Miss Relena**
> 
> **By PinkDelusion**
> 
> **06.08.04**
> 
> **_Notes- _**_written on sugar high (already not a good sign) and full of weirdness. beware! Session: 8:30 -- 10:45; listening to my dear 1tym _
> 
> "What do you think we should do?"  
  
"I don't know."  
  
"We gotta do _something_."  
  
Trowa blinked tiredly, looking back and forth from one comrade to the other. In his usual nonchalant manner, he leaned back against the masterfully painted wall and sighed.  
  
"What's wrong, Trowa?" asked Quatre, sensing his friend's dismay.  
  
"Catherine gets this, too."  
  
"How do you get rid of it?"  
  
"I don't know."  
  
Duo snorted. What a great help he was. How was it that in their greatest moment of need, they were useless? They were a living death machine – and they couldn't handle a problem so trivial that Duo was ready to pull out his braid in frustration.  
  
"I've heard of this thing before..." added Quatre precariously. In all his years experience, all he could conjure was a faint memory of a similar situation.  
  
"Any ideas?"  
  
"Other than time? None." Replied the blond sadly.  
  
All five young men shrunk in the knowledge of a mission failed. It wouldn't have been the first time that they hadn't succeeded – but to fail because of something so minor was killing all of them.  
  
"You're the only one who hasn't said anything, Wufei."  
  
"How would I know anything of those onna affairs?" he responded with evident spite. He had never troubled himself with such matters, but it seemed that at last he would have to face the thing he most dreaded. He just wasn't going to do it alone.  
  
"Maybe if we just talked..."  
  
"And have her freak out on me again – no way!" hollered Duo. The last time he'd tried anything half-nice, she'd nearly bit his head off. This was way more than just a bad day.  
  
"We could call Zechs..."  
  
Trowa snorted. All four boys looked on at their silent friend in surprise, but said nothing. He'd said what they'd all been thinking, without really _saying_ anything, per say.  
  
"We can't fail."  
  
"Well, duh!"  
  
"There must be some rational explanation," said Quatre, the ever-optimistic boy. He knew what was wrong – he just couldn't put his finger on what exactly – or how to help poor Relena.  
  
"I'm going in," proclaimed their fearless leader, jaw straight in defiance. There was no chance that he would let her get away with something like "womanly issues".  
  
With a strong knock upon her bedroom door, Heero stood waiting. All four other pilots had tactfully congregated _behind_ their companion. Lest there be some life-threatening actions, they were one hundred percent behind Mr. Indestructible.  
  
"Coming!" rang a feminine voice from the other side of the door. Heero kept his head straight forward, a slight moisture on his forehead. If she didn't kill him, the stress would.  
  
A blonde head peeked out slightly from the bedroom door, blue eyes squinted in suspicion as she scanned the hallway.  
  
"What do you want, Heero?" she asked, a bit of annoyance perceptible in her usually sweet voice.  
  
"To know why you cancelled your meetings this morning."  
  
"I already told you. I'm taking a day off."  
  
"I know there is something you're not telling me."  
  
"I'm going back to sleep now." She answered, popping her head back into the room and shutting the door with noticeable strength.  
  
If Relena were any other person, one might say she was slight pissed. However, Relena was not any other person, and was therefore deemed "slightly sensitive". Though Heero could think of quite a few different words to describe her latest set of actions – and in much more colorful words.  
  
"Well, we sure made a whole lot of progress here."  
  
"Try not to be so irritable, Duo."  
  
"Shut up, Maxwell!"  
  
"How come no one ever tells Trowa or Quatre or Heero to shut up? Why's it always gotta be me?" the braided brunette cried in frustration.  
  
"Shut up!" bellowed the other four.  
  
_"Fine!"  
_  
While Duo took his prescribed five minutes to sulk, the other four rested their heads despairingly against the corridor wall. If Relena didn't get out of her "state" soon, who knew what kind of trouble they'd be in? While few of them had a true affinity to their job, they weren't in a rush to part with it. Which is what would happen if Milliardo were to ever find out.  
  
"We should ask another onna."  
  
"Good idea, Wuffie!"  
  
"Don't call me that."  
  
"Sure, Wuffers!"  
  
With exceeding care, Wufei began to slide out his katana, making sure to let Maxwell see its decapitating abilities. Duo remained quiet, and all were silenced.  
  
"Where are we going to find a woman?" Quatre innocently asked.  
  
"Did someone say woman?" asked a silky voice from behind them. The five turned to come face-to-face with the illustrious Dorothy Catalonia.  
  
Quatre's knees quaked slightly, a nervous look spreading onto his face. "Yes Miss Dorothy."  
  
"We said 'woman' not 'witch'. You will be of no assistance here." Sneered Wufei.  
  
"Your loss." Came the sighing reply.  
  
Pushing Wufei aside, Heero approached Dorothy, "What can you tell us about a syndrome only affecting females that could deter them from their work?"  
  
"Hmm...well, there is PMS."  
  
Leaning closer, the pilots' eyes widened in anticipation.  
  
"But that's nothing. Unless..."  
  
"Unless what?"  
  
"Unless you can't get the woman out of her room...then that's a really bad case."  
  
"What are the side affects?"  
  
"Possible fatality."  
  
Aquamarine eyes dilated in fear, "We must save Miss Relena!"  
  
Dorothy chuckled in her own way, pressing a slender finger against her chin, "So Relena's the lucky lady. I should have known...it's been almost two weeks since she asked for a flamingo."  
  
"Flamingo? Term not computing."  
  
Dorothy just chuckled some more. "I must be going boys, good luck!"  
  
And with that, Dorothy disappeared down the hallway with just as mystery as she had appeared. The boys were becoming rapidly wary of the women they'd surrounded themselves with for nearly two years.  
  
"What now?"  
  
"Another onna?"  
  
"No way!"  
  
"Then what?"  
  
"A doctor!"  
  
"I will immediately contact Dr. J."  
  
"Smart thinking, Heero."  
  
And so the young men eagerly awaited a cell phone call to the illustrious doctor. All crowded around Heero, hoping to catch word of what exactly was wrong.  
  
"This is Dr. J..."  
  
"Yes, Doctor, we have a pressing matter..."  
  
"If you need to give me a personal message, leave a brief comment after the beep. If you are interested in the selling of black-market firearms, please press 2..."  
  
Heero hastily pressed the number two on his dial.  
  
"You have selected option 2... the police will be contacting you soon."  
  
"Oops."  
  
Heero hurriedly slammed shut his cell phone and took up his place staring at his shoes. He'd have to remember to hack into the police station and delete his number. J always was a slick one.  
  
"We still haven't gotten anywhere."  
  
"Drastic times call for drastic measures."  
  
"What exactly are drastic measures?"  
  
Trowa did not respond, instead, he headed down the hall. Unsure as whether to follow him, the four exchanged circumspective looks and then decided to follow him at a safe distance.  
  
After finally arriving at a neighboring office, Trowa rapped on the door quietly. A voice from within shouted for him to enter, and he did.  
  
Noin was busily running about her office, pulling files from cabinets and placing them on her already cluttered desk.  
  
"I'll have to talk to you later, Une, I have to take a meeting. Bye." She said into the telephone and then collapsing into her chair with exhaustion.  
  
"We need to speak with you."  
  
Noin flattened her hair and looked up at them. "What's up?"  
  
The other four boys filed into her office, taking special care as not to step on the copious quantities of piles on the floor.  
  
"We have a dilemma," Stated Heero.  
  
"What kind of dilemma?"  
  
"A girl one," answered Quatre quietly.  
  
"Which one of you broke up with his girlfriend?" asked Noin hurriedly, eyes now alight with interest.  
  
"None of us." Retorted Wufei.  
  
"C'mon, you can tell me! Who is it? Do I know her?" she inquired breathlessly.  
  
"Stop talking nonsense, onna."  
  
"I could help set the rest of you up if you like...!"  
  
"Really?" interjected Duo.  
  
"Yeah! It'd be so much fun!" exclaimed Noin.  
  
Quatre looked from Heero to Trowa and then to Wufei. All four swerved their eyes in the direction of the door and nodded. Now was the time to escape before any bodily harm was done.  
  
"Where are you going, buddies?"  
  
Trowa coughed, meticulously swiveling his emerald eyes in the direction of their only exit. "We have to leave now."  
  
"Thank you, Miss Noin." Piped Quatre before Wufei dragged Duo through the door and slammed it behind him.  
  
Just glad to be alive, Heero sighed. He'd never encountered a specimen such as _that_ before. Must be part of this female condition that they spoke of so often. And yet, they still hadn't deciphered the meaning of anyone's words and were falling farther away from the truth.  
  
"We need to get Relena out of that room soon, guys. You heard what Dorothy said – this could be fatal."  
  
Nodding in agreement, the five sauntered a safe distance from Noin's office and began to think again.  
  
"I'm out of ideas," said Trowa.  
  
"Me, too." Quatre adjoined.  
  
"There must be _someone_ we didn't ask."  
  
"I think we might have to resort to Plan Z," answered Heero, a stony look upon his face.  
  
"And what would that be?"  
  
"Operation Ask Brother."  
  
Four mouths dropped open at the suggestion. Heero had obviously lost his mind – and was about to lose his job. But then again, what was a job to a failed mission? The operation was everything – if the operation did not succeed, then there was no job anyways.  
  
"I'm not calling Bossman." Added Duo quickly.  
  
"I'd rather not do it either." Quatre quietly whispered.  
  
"I will be the one to do it," said Heero slowly. Though this may have stemmed from a very trivial matter, this was no piece of cake. Their jobs, and possibly lives, hung on the line with one call.  
  
"Be careful, Heero, try not to upset him too much. Did you grab that First Aid kit, Q-man?"  
  
Nodding in affirmation, Quatre pulled out a portable kit hugged it close to himself. The moment was becoming tenser by the minute. Sweat drenched Duo's face as he stared at his friend in sorrow.  
  
Trowa, actually paying some attention for once, was leaning close to Heero, at the ready should any unexpected paraphernalia come his way. Wufei, ever loyal, squinted even more than usual, making his eyes but tiny slit on his face. And while Heero could only take this as small signs of support, he still felt rather anxious about the call he was about to make.  
  
"Anyone know his number?"  
  
"Yeah, its here....somewhere... Gotcha!"  
  
Heero took the small scrap of paper and stared at it meticulously. This was the end of the great Heero Yuy. With a slight sigh, he began to dial the doomed numbers.  
  
"Someone need a doctor?"  
  
Heero quickly closed his phone and turned around. There was Sally, her medical garb on, and her head tilted to the side in questioning.  
  
"No...we're –" started Duo, but he was silenced with a punch and fell to the floor.  
  
"Yes, we need a doctor."  
  
"Then I'm your girl."  
  
"What is pre-menstrual syndrome?" asked Quatre slowly, mispronouncing the new phenomena.  
  
"PMS?" replied Sally jovially.  
  
"Yeah, that fatal thing."  
  
Sally laughed. And laughed. And laughed. By that time, the impatient young men were getting very irritated. But Sally continued to laugh.  
  
"So.... what is it?"  
  
"Not fatal."  
  
"Well, that's good."  
  
"Which one of you has PMS?" asked Sally, still laughing intermittently.  
  
"Relena."  
  
"Oh."  
  
Heero cocked his head to the side in confusion. "So what do we do?"  
  
"Let a professional take care of it."  
  
"Then Miss Relena will be all right?" asked Quatre.  
  
"She'll be just fine. You guys had better get back to work – Zechs might think you're slacking off." She answered with a reassuring hand on Quatre's arm.  
  
The boys, rather stunned, and still not fully understanding, began to walk away.  
  
But one thing just didn't sit well in Duo's stomach – and it wasn't the blueberry cobbler form this morning – it was just something that was bugging him beyond belief.  
  
"Sally, what's a 'Flamingo'?"  
  
**The End**
> 
> **A/N-** yeah, very very strange. but i love it anyways! hope you liked! just me poking fun at the female condition...
> 
> **PS-** a 'Flamingo' is a term that some girls use to refer to a "sanitary napkin" -- just in case you didn't catch that one...
> 
> **PPS-** i'm actually changing the title of this story (which was once called **Drastic Measures**) because i realized that Crazygurl(Madness) actually has a story of the same title on BI. ((bows)) sorry!
> 
> I'm not even bother to put my usual saying at the bottom here asking people to send me suggestions -- because this was written in an hour on a sugar burst and should not be taken in any way seriously. reviews aren't bad though...


End file.
